Finn's home trail was still fresh, and Lupus followed it easily,
growling to himself as he noted its friendly proximity to the
trails he knew well, of Black-tip and Warrigal and the rest. Lupus
told himself these dingoes needed a lesson, and should have it. He
licked his chops, then, over a recollection of sundry whiffs and
glimpses which had interested him of late in Warrigal, and as his
nose dropped low over her trail on the near side of Finn's, it was
borne in upon Lupus that it would be well for him to have a mate,
and that Warrigal would be a pleasing occupant of that post. The
stranger must be removed, once and for all. Lupus growled low in
his throat. Black-tip and his friends must be cautioned severely.
And then Warrigal should receive high honours; high honours and
great favour. So Lupus pieced the matter out in his mind while
loping heavily along Finn's trail; while among the starveling trees
near the mountain's foot, Black-tip and his friends discussed the
new-comer's prowess; while in the den on the first spur Finn lay
dozing under the admiring eyes of his mate, who did not greatly
care for sleep at night. Regarded as a fighting animal, the thing
which really formed the keynote of Lupus's character was the fact
that he had never met a creature he could not overcome. He had
never tasted defeat, unless, conceivably, in his young days, from
old Tasman. It did not occur to him that any creature could face
him in serious combat and survive.
Before Lupus touched the first loose stone of the trail leading up
the hill to Warrigal's den, the people of the scrub below were all
aware of his passage, and Black-tip, with seven other dingoes who
did not happen to be away hunting, were following up the same
trail, in fan-shaped formation, and at a respectful distance behind
the master of the range. Half-way up the rugged side of the spur,
his unbeaten insolence betrayed Lupus into what the wild folk
considered an unsportsmanlike and stupid mistake. He paused for a
moment, and bellowed forth a threatening and peremptory
announcement of his coming in the form of a hoarse, grating howl of
challenge which could have been heard a mile away. Then he
proceeded on his upward way slowly, because he was fully fed,
carelessly, because he had never known defeat, but with
determination, because he was bent upon ridding the range of one
who had flung defiance at him across the gully, and because, the
more he thought of it, and recalled various small matters of recent
experience and connected with the trail he then followed, the more
ardent became his desire to possess Warrigal for a mate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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